


The Many Memories of Pain

by ktbl



Series: Strange and Lovely Things [3]
Category: Mortal Kombat (Video Games)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Mental Health Issues, Minor Canonical Character(s), Nightmares, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prior Kenshi/Suchin, Prior Sonya/Johnny, Romance, Slice of Life, adult relationships, it's complicated - Freeform, mentioned previous relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:48:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22863574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ktbl/pseuds/ktbl
Summary: “Want to tag along?” The words were out of her mouth before she realized the offer. She bit down on the inside of her cheek, focused on the email in front of her.“Is that a genuine offer?”She had the chance to rescind it, and she was grateful he’d extended it. "Yes,” she blurted instead, and lobbed the ball back with more force than was strictly necessary. “Go home, pack yourself a bag."
Relationships: Sonya Blade & Takahashi Kenshi, Sonya Blade/Takahashi Kenshi
Series: Strange and Lovely Things [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1624903
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	1. Visions of the Night

**Author's Note:**

> "In visions of the night, like dropping rain,  
> Descend the many memories of pain  
> Before the spirit’s sight: through tears and dole,  
> Comes wisdom o’er the unwilling soul..." - Aeschylus, _Agamemnon_

**THURSDAY**

“Colonel Blade.”

Sonya pivoted at the voice in her office, dropping into a fighting stance as she twisted towards the speaker. Blood pounded in her ears and she picked up a faint metallic taste in her mouth.

“Fucking hell, Kenshi, I need to put a bell on you.” She stared angrily at the man. Tall and dark-haired and (for once) in civilian dress, he sat comfortably relaxed on her office couch, like he’d been there for a while. He was bare-faced, which caught her a bit by surprise. Kenshi tended to wear a blindfold, almost as if to flaunt his blindness and his capabilities, and Sonya could occasionally coax him into sunglasses, but today he was sitting there with his eyes half-open, sunglasses tucked into the neck of his shirt.

Nonetheless, there he sat, like he belonged. In her office. On the Special Forces base. In Earthrealm. She drew in a deep breath and then exhaled slowly, adjusting her jacket and self-consciously tugging on the sleeves, realigning them. It was Kenshi, a person she trusted like she trusted herself. Everything was safe. Danger never made it this far. Drop off high alert, Blade. She straightened, rising back to a normal position, trying to calm herself. “I thought you were out. Off-base. Last I knew you were, anyway.”

“I am more than a bit concerned that your first reaction upon hearing your name is to prepare for combat,” the swordsman noted, unperturbed. “I returned nearly a month ago,” he added. “I’ve been on and off base intermittently. I returned last night from visiting with Johnny and Cassie.”

“When I’m not expecting someone in my office, I get jumpy.” She walked over and clapped a hand on his shoulder for a moment, taking a moment of comfort in the solid muscle beneath her palm. He reached up and gripped her arm, squeezing it once, and then they both let go. They often went weeks without seeing each other - the longest was still nearly eight years, when Kenshi had first gone undercover with the Red Dragon. Sonya dismissed the little concerned thought that she couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him. Months, certainly.

“Not usually this jumpy, Sonya. You’re like a cat and I just trod on your tail.”

She ignored his comment, stepping back and walked towards her desk, trying to place when he’d started the mission he’d apparently finished a month ago. “Get tired of the life of Hollywood glitz and glamor? Cage try to drag you to afterparties?” Sonya gave an exaggerated shudder, quietly wondering what else had slipped through the cracks of her mind.

“It was a change of pace from the usual routine. I do, in fact, enjoy other things than running your soldiers around the training ring. As entertaining as that is, there is more to life.” He smiled slightly as she scoffed and pulled out her chair. “He did try the afterparties. I pointed out I was not the sort of person to discuss films with unless they were made before I was blinded, and was not the type to enjoy the rest of the function. After one, I made my point well enough. Then…” Kenshi let a shoulder rise and fall. “He had new scripts to read, and Cassie is in school, so I thought I might come back up and see if there was work. Or at least if some of your soldiers needed to be kept in shape.”

“You’re welcome to them. I’m about to send half of them out on ops… they could use a little unorthodox opponent time if you’re willing. No need to hold back.” Sonya sat down at her desk, hooking an ankle around her chair. “All things considered, you caught me at a good time-“

“You were ready to fight me. I am not sure this counts as a good time,” he interrupted. She glared and flipped her middle finger at him.

“I’m heading off for a long weekend,” she resumed. “If you’d come in tomorrow I wouldn’t be here. I can give you my wish list of field ops, if you’re feeling the itch to get out again, you can pick what you want. Few things kicking off in the next few weeks. At least three of them could use your skillset.” He hadn’t moved, and Sonya looked idly for something to throw at him. Back for a month and she’d missed it - how had that happened? She couldn’t get over it. There was probably an e-mail notification somewhere in her inbox; messages bred like rabbits, and for every one she opened, four appeared in its place. Her stomach twisted at the thought of losing track of him. She wiggled the mouse on her computer and keyed in her password. She groaned at the number next to her inbox, and began to do triage on the dozen marked urgent.

“Off to go lay waste to Black Dragon on an op? War games..?”

“No.” She shuffled a few file folders on one side of her desk into a pile. “Vacation, because the gods know I need it. Literally. Fujin had words with me during our last sparring bout.” Her voice was a little sour, and Kenshi let a smile cross his face; she glared. “There’s a place up by a lake, couple hours away. Cage and I used to rent it some summers, get out of the city.” She turned back to her computer.

“This time, I’m taking a long weekend and going up by myself. Need to just get off base for a bit.” She picked up a black foam stress ball with the Special Forces insignia on it, some smartass’ anonymous delivery to her office, and threw it at him. Kenshi caught it with barely any effort, and she rolled her eyes. Blind and he still had better reflexes than some of her soldiers, damn him.

“If Fujin himself chastised you into it, I can only imagine. What are you planning?” She heard curiosity in his voice, and a moment later caught the ball as he threw it back.

“Nothing. Read. Sit on the dock, sit in the sun. Maybe absolutely nothing. Clear my head. Everything impossible to do on post… or with two Cages around.”

“I am envious. I think I have forgotten what silence is. I have either not had any, or been more concerned about when it happens that it sends me on alert, than been able to enjoy it.”

“Want to tag along?” The words were out of her mouth before she realized the offer. She bit down on the inside of her cheek, focused on the email in front of her.

“Is that a genuine offer?”

She had the chance to rescind it, and she was grateful he’d extended it.

“Yes,” she blurted instead, and lobbed the ball back with more force than was strictly necessary. “Go home, pack yourself a bag. Coming back to base on Tuesday. It’s up in the mountains… I’m leaving tonight, driving up. That a problem for you?”

“Only if you expect me to share the driving duty.” He tossed the ball back to her.

She caught it one-handed. “Little after five, then, unless the end of the world, or my phone rings.” Her voice soured again, as if she expected either one of them to happen and ruin her plans. It would not be the first time. “We’ll hit the PX and then the road.”

“Five, then.”

It had been several hours of awkward conversation, mostly silence or radio interspersed with attempts at conversation. Sonya realized about twenty minutes in that this was the first time she’d be alone with Kenshi this long and it wasn’t somehow roughly mission-related. They’d spent social time together, hours of it over the years - but this was over two hours in her truck and there was no raid on the Black Dragons or Red Dragons or some sort of odd outpost at the end of it. No social drinking with anyone, dropping him off at his apartment on base - this was it. When she made the turn off the main road to the little lake house, she couldn’t decide if the knot in her stomach was better or worse.

“It’s been a few years since I’ve been up here,” Sonya prefaced as the truck bumped over the last part of the driveway into the clearing. Headlights and moonlight reflected off the windows of the little house, tucked away in its clearing. A porch wrapped around two sides, and the truck’s headlights flashed brieflyon the worn dirt path down to the lake. The grassy sward around the house looked fairly well-maintained, and she remembered chasing Cassie around on it, occasionally using as a practice space for kicking her then-husband’s ass in sparring bouts.

“Let me check the layout, clear any of the furniture and all for you. I mostly remember it being nice and neat, and then covered in toys. His _and_ hers.” The smile on her face was sad, and she wiped it off her face as soon as she felt it appear. She was here to relax and clear her head - not dredge up the past. “Should be a lot easier with you around, truth be told. Can’t be messier.”

“I am capable of handling furniture on my own,” Kenshi answered, “And I tend to neatness. Though the consideration is appreciated.”

She parked the truck and walked to the door, keying in a code and then turning the lights on as she stepped inside. It was a single main room with a small partial kitchen, a couch and pair of chairs, a fireplace built into one wall and a small wood pile tucked up neatly beside it. The decor was cabin rustic chic, plaid and full grain wood and its aesthetic entirely lost on her. “Yeah, not much has changed. Looks like a new table, new curtains, and -“ she laughed and shook her head.

“What is it?”

“Still no dishwasher.” Sonya stepped out of Kenshi’s way, looking into the small kitchen space.

_“C’mere, honey.” Johnny’s arms curled around her from behind and he kissed the nape of her neck. “We have one episode of Duck Tales before Cass’ attention goes.”_

_“So I’m only worth thirty minutes? Nice try.” She elbowed him and he laughed, hands moving unerringly upwards under her shirt. “Hey, leave off. Someone picked a place without a dishwasher, and if you want clean plates for dinner, at least one of us needs to do some work.”_

_“Hey, I’m being a supportive husband,” he grinned, cupping her breasts with his broad hands, stroking circles with his thumbs. “Anyway, I’ll make it worth your while.”_

_She rinsed her hands and turned, flicking her fingers and spraying him with droplets. “You saying I’m an easy lay?”_

_He brushed his lips across her forehead and tucked a hand into a back pocket of her shorts. “Nothing easy about you, babe. We can live dangerously, and make out like teenagers about to be caught by their parents instead?”_

_“Or like parents getting caught by their kid?” Sonya snorted, feeling the impact of a body on their legs._

_“Group hug!” came a cheerful voice from knee height. Sonya looked to Johnny, who tilted his head down and kissed her softly while one hand dropped down to ruffle their daughter’s hair._

_“What’s up, Cass?” Johnny asked._

_“Don’t like it.”_

_“You liked it last week-“ Sonya’s mouth snapped shut and she looked at Johnny, exasperated. “Alright. Who’s up for a swim?”_

She forced down the memory, mentally kicking herself. This was the stupidest idea she’d had in a very long time. She hadn’t been expecting to get slammed with vivid memories, and it set her further on edge. She turned around, and reminded herself who she was with: her friend, not her ex-husband. They were both tall men, both fighters, but there the similarities stopped.

“That’s my only quibble about the place, but I have no problem washing up, so it’s not a big deal. How much of a detailed tour do you want? Just the overview, or do you want the here’s-the-forks-and-cups level of detail?”

“I can figure out most of it by trial and error. The general tour is fine.”

She gave it to him easily; the place was so small that it took only a few minutes. He moved slowly, mentally mapping the layout, touching pieces of furniture to gauge their length, their location. She paused at the end of the hall. “Bedrooms are here. You want left or right? Same layout in each.”

“Which side will the sun come up on?”

“Slug,” Sonya accused immediately, before considering. “If you want to sleep in, take the one on the right. Sun won’t get in your face first thing.” She turned to the one on the left and tossed her duffel bag on the bed. “Poke around, I’m going to get the cooler out of the truck and unpack it, throw something together for dinner, and then sack out. I’m exhausted.”

It only took her a few minutes to do so, loading up the small fridge with various groceries. Partway through she paused, and leaned around the door of the fridge. “Ah, damn it. I wasn’t thinking. Kenshi? Any way you want me to sort this so you know where things are?”

“Well, I cannot read the labels, so… Would it be a problem if I did this? I can set it up as I do at home and as long as everything goes back where I’m accustomed to, I should not be entirely dependent on you.” His voice came from behind her suddenly and she was very grateful she managed not to lash out at him. She twitched at the proximity and moved out of his way. “Part of why living on base is useful. If I need to, there is always someone around to do something when I cannot. And that includes eating in the mess sometimes.”

“Hmm,” Sonya said, nodding her head slightly. “Hadn’t considered that. Especially someone willingly eating in the mess. Alright, so - want me to tell you what it is and pass it and you just shelve it?”

“Probably best.”

An hour later, sorted and fed, Sonya reached over and touched one of his shoulders. “Alright, I’m for bed. I’ll see you in the morning. Anything you need a hand with, any crises, just wake me up. If I get six uninterrupted hours it’ll be a miracle.”

“Then sleep well, Sonya, and we’ll talk in the morning.” He reached up, touched her hand briefly while it was on his shoulder. “And if I knock on your door - please do not shoot me.”

“I make no promises,” she said with a grin, squeezed his shoulder, and headed down the short hall.

Her dreams that night were uneasy, crowded things. They began strange and nonsensical - fighting Johnny in Mortal Kombat for custody of Cassie and neither one of them giving in. Another was of Shang Tsung returning, the sorcerer calling up Ermac at the Well of Souls and imbuing him with new power and new souls - among them, one with her father’s face as she remembered him last. No matter how hard she fought to try to break Shang Tsung’s invocation, Jax’s inflexible arms held her back, telling her that a soldier took the fate they were given, that she should be grateful her father had died a warrior. His arms were cold - unbearably cold - everything was old, and she turned around in Jax’s grasp to see Sub-Zero sending out ice to hold them both in place. She didn’t know what to make of that, and shook herself out of the dream, confused.

She sat up, realizing she’d somehow kicked all the blankets off and was freezing - that explained Sub-Zero, at any rate. It took long minutes before she could calm herself enough to lie down again and try to sleep. Eventually she managed to, burrowed into the blankets.

The second round was worse.

Hunting her way across Shang Tsung’s island, then stalking her way through Shang Tsung’s dungeons. They were cold, despite the humidity of the island, and water dripped down the walls. She made it to the lowest level and its large central room, spinning around to look at the cells, all the cells. One of them had Jax - that’s who she was here for. Jax. She walked from cell to cell, looking for him, and suddenly stopped.

One held Cassie, slamming herself into the bars, crying for Sonya. Five or six, tears streaming down her face as she tried to reach Sonya. “Mama, Mama! Get me out, Mama!”

Another held her father, broken and bleeding but swearing he could get up, he could go, if she could help him, get him out of the cell. “Ever wondered where that covert op was, kiddo? What happened? There was so much - so much I can tell you, so much we missed..."

Across from him was Jax, much as it had on the island, horribly battered but his arms intact. “Get out of here, girl,” he mouthed. “Get out of here, and get me out of here, and we’ll make it and this will all get fixed. You know, now. We can do it right.”

Beside him, a cell trapped her twin brother, Daniel, eighteen and cocky and everything important to her, looking heartbreakingly perfect. Not like he had when she’d had to identify his body in the morgue, utterly wrecked from the car crash that had killed him a couple of days after their high school graduation. He grinned at her - their smile had always been the same. “Hey, little sis. You owe me.”

As she turned, more and more cells, people she’d failed - her mother, Johnny, Kenshi, Kung Lao, Liu Kang, Kitana, Nightwolf, Stryker… Every one that she had failed, every one that she had disappointed, every one whose life she had, in some way, utterly ruined.

“Pick one, Miss Blade,” came Shang Tsung’s voice from behind her. “You can have one of them, whichever one you choose, free and clear. One and only one - Miss Blade, Lieutenant Blade, Major Blade, Mrs. Blade-Cage, Colonel Blade, whoever it is you think you are. One, and only one.” She turned around, looked at herself, looked across Cassie - the little girl older now, but with a sort of world-weary look Sonya had seen far too much during her stint in Hollywood, the one that said all she wanted to do was chase the next high. Daniel, now mangled and pale; Jax, armless, bleeding, looking at her accusingly; her father’s corpse, grasping at the metal of the cell, mouth working and maggots writhing.

She shot up, muffling a scream, heart pounding in her chest, breathing hard and ragged, and managed long after, to find sleep again.

None of the dreams were good, none of them restful, and she finally gave up as the light of false dawn began to creep through the window. She pulled on a pair of jeans and a battered sweatshirt against the cold, made a hurried pot of coffee, and struck out for the lake.


	2. Almost, Maybe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Try me some other night, old man. Let me get these damn devils in my head settled first. Last thing I want to do is wake up strangling you.”
> 
> “You think you could?” Kenshi scoffed, disbelieving. She looked over at him, at the column of his neck, the muscles of it, the ones of his chest and shoulders. She reached a hand towards him, not quite touching it.
> 
> Her voice was low, but it didn’t need to be loud with him. “Did, once. Cage.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This *was* supposed to go up last week, for which I apologize - I went back to do another round of edits, didn’t like the way something flowed, and the next thing I knew I’d deleted half the word count and was rewriting it. The rest of the story, thankfully, has been much easier to tweak and will go up weekly as expected - I took the extra week to get everything else squared away and adjusted. This definitely did not go the way I'd anticipated, but finishes setting things up. Thanks for your patience!

**FRIDAY**

No matter how comfortable the bed was - fresh cotton sheets that smelled like soap and sunshine, a good mattress long enough that he didn’t find his feet hanging off the end - there was something fundamentally wrong, and Kenshi couldn’t put a finger on it. He spent several long moments considering why he had agreed to come to a new bed, a new house, an entire place he had no comfort and familiarity with. When every reasonable part of his brain had told him to stay home, relax and enjoy his own solitude at home, in a place he knew, he’d gone with the part he always went with - the one that took risks and leapt at challenges. Would he like to go somewhere with Sonya - alone, uninterrupted, away from the base and its thousands of prying eyes? He had followed her into war zones; a long weekend in a lakeside house seemed like nothing compared to that.

He’d roused once or twice to unhappy sounds across the hall, and resisted the urge to immediately investigate. It was Sonya, after all - she would be fine, and she would not look kindly on intrusion, no matter his intent. He’d resisted telepathic interference for the same reason. There had been no screams, none of the other noises he linked to assault, so he’d gone back to sleep - no matter how badly he hadn’t wanted to.

He dragged himself from half-awake consideration to full alertness. He focused on the sounds around him; there was no rustling in the main room, no sounds of movement.There was was birdsong, an occasional insect noise, breeze teasing the leaves of the trees. The faint electrical hum of the appliances in the house. A duck, far away. He stretched out in the bed, taking a few long moments to savor the utterly wonderful sound of near-silence. It was almost perfect.

Almost.

He stretched his mind out, expecting to find Sonya in the room across the hall. There was nothing there. No mind, no energy. His stomach churned with sudden dismay at being abandoned, alone and forgotten in a new place. Or - worse - something had happened and she’d left him, or actually had been taken. That the night sounds he’d heard weren’t from bad dreams, but from an incursion, and he’d brushed it off. He grit his teeth so hard his jaw hurt and eased himself out of the bed. He counted the steps to where he’d stashed his duffel, felt for and extracted a shirt from one compartment, and pulled it on. He rubbed the scars around his eyes with the heel of one hand, cursing himself. With the sweatpants he’d slept in, he was about as ready to go anywhere as he’d be able to be, without layering on his armor.

The armor he had notably _not_ packed, second-guessing himself until the last five minutes before Sonya had arrived. His bare hands twitched at the thought, wishing he’d brought the gloves and armored bodysuit. Sento, however, was with him; it always was. He slid the katana’s scabbard on, tightening the strap around his chest and shoulder, and left the bedroom. Once again mapping the room and furniture, he moved as quickly and as carefully as he could through the space. He compared it to where it had been the night before, and everything was neat as a pin, in its place as it had been before - no fight, then, no struggle. He slid on his shoes and shouldered open the door, stepping outside and inhaling deeply.

He caught a faint scent of coffee in the air, mixed with smell of loam and old dirt and trees and water. No sound of Sonya. Had she gone running? He listened again, and heard a sound of a thunk and splash of something hitting water.He felt the slight downward pitch of the path - heading for that lake, that dock, she’d mentioned? -and moved as quickly along it as he could manage. Then, through the trees, he picked up a mind. He exhaled in profound relief as he caught the edge of it, identified it as hers, and felt his muscles relax, his chest loosen. He picked up his pace, though her energy hadn’t moved much, and there was nothing else nearby. He found the top of a set of stairs and stopped himself quickly.

“Sonya?” 

He heard her clear her throat. “Hey. Down here. Twenty steps, even rise.” A pause. “Hold there and I’ll - Christ, Kenshi, you didn’t need to come down here armed!”

“Stay where you are. I am not interested in an inadvertent morning swim.” He moved slowly, carefully, counting steps and then walking in a straight line towards where he’d heard her voice, feeling the transition from solid ground to a bobbing dock. “What brought you down here?” He wriggled his jaw, rubbed at it, trying to help dissipate the tension he’d packed into the small muscles.

“Didn’t sleep well,” she said, voice low and a little thick, as he settled down carefully beside her. “Got up a bit before dawn, and came down.” She smelled like bug spray, and he realized he probably could have followed the smell of that down here if he’d been thinking clearly.

“Explains why everything was quiet. If it hadn’t been for your coffee, I would have thought you had vanished.” His chest tightened again at the thought. He swallowed instead, spreading his hands out on the dock. Very carefully not putting them on her, as badly as he wanted to reassure himself that she was still there.

“Ah. So that’s why you look like you’re spoiling for a fight. No such luck - I didn’t go AWOL. Wouldn’t do that to you. Just a rough night.” As she spoke, he focused on the smooth grain of the wood under his fingertips. The lake sounds and smells were louder and richer now - the water, cold and clean, the smell of green things and mud, a quiet splash from far away.

“I was concerned,” Kenshi ventured carefully. “Leaving me a note is not the easiest feat, but there was no sign of you, and the idea of something having come, you disappearing without warning was… unpleasant. It is hard not to think the worst.” He couldn’t decide if he wanted to throttle her or kiss her; the indecisive emotion was one he was becoming strangely familiar with around her.

“Sorry. You were sleeping, and you never get enough sleep. And I know the hours they keep in LA. Brought you up here as a guest, to decompress.” She managed a weak self-deprecating laugh that convinced neither of them. “Trust me, if shit had hit the fan, I would have found a way to let you know. Anyway. How’d you sleep?” He heard the noise of drinking, and the momentary stronger smell of coffee wafted towards him.

“As well as can be expected.” A careful non-answer.

“No one’s chasing you down, or playing reveille, so you better be.” She elbowed him, and he pushed her lightly back in return. The dock rocked gently in the water, and he felt the tension in his muscles ebb a little more at the contact. He slung an arm around her shoulders casually, contact that gave him an excuse to breathe her in and reassure himself that everything was fine. The bug spray - less than attractive, but necessary - overwhelmed her usual scent, but there was still citrus, the lingering smell of gun oil and a faint hint of salt-sweat. The thick fabric of a sweatshirt under his fingers gave him no contact with her skin, and his fingers curled briefly against her in irritation. She leaned her head on his shoulder, and he settled for keeping her tucked her against him instead. The last time they’d done this had been coming back from a Black Dragon raid somewhere, and they’d sat for hours on the drive back.

“I appreciate your willingness to allow a last-minute guest, especially since it sounds like you were planning this for yourself,” he said. She was quiet for a few moments, and he felt some of her own tension drop away as she sipped her coffee again, let a little more of her weight rest against him. He wanted to tell her how panicked he’d been, but would never admit it. He risked a touch of his lips against her temple, brief and featherlight. “Speaking from experience, peace of mind can be difficult to find.” He kissed her temple again, certain he could feel her pulse there, and it beat in time with his.

“Well, you’re the reigning expert on that,” she snorted. “And it’s not a problem. Was the quiet that bad, then?”

Kenshi weighed his words carefully. “This place is strange to me. As much as I can negotiate furniture in a new room tolerably well, or open a jar and tell if it is pickles or peanut butter, I cannot actually relax unless I know someone else is alert. Listening. I can trust you,” and his lips quirked up at the corners, “to be aware of what is happening. If something makes you nervous, you will pick up on it. I could just as easily listen to a book inside, true. But I cannot actually relax enough to do so and enjoy myself. But if I am where you are, I can let down my guard.”

“Copy that,” she said. “As long as you’re not expecting a hell of a lot of excitement.”

“I would be very happy to just sit on the dock and, or the deck chairs, or whatever else it is there is, and do very little. Just as long as I know you’re nearby.”

“If it was anyone else,” she said, shifting her position, “I’d call you clingy or possessive. Or just trying to watch my ass.”

“And since it is me?”

“You just want an audience for your clever commentary. And a chance to get your hands on me.”

He snorted, and felt her hands on his face, managed to avoid flinching. She took his chin in one hand, and kissed him once, fast and loose. “There. Should keep you out of trouble for at least an hour.” With the touch of her lips on his,he felt the last of the muscle tension in his body dissipate. He curled his hand around her shoulder, his mouth finding her own again and kissing her longer, slower, more deeply. She made a soft, satisfied sound, and tucked herself against him again.

They sat in quiet for another few minutes before she lifted her head, and he wanted to snatch her back, enjoying the comfort of her weight and warmth. “We’ve spent long enough down here… Time to move again, and I’ll throw together some breakfast.”He felt her pull further away, followed by the gentle bob of the dock in response to her motion. The sound of water, felt a few droplets as she sucked in a breath against the cold, the sound of hands on skin as she scrubbed at her face. “Yeah, no swimming on this trip.”

“Doesn’t it warm up during the day?”

“Not enough to where I’m happy with it. I like my water warm. I get enough cold showers, I don’t want to freeze my ass off for pleasure.” She leaned into him again, pushing a little with her shoulder. “Piss me off and I’ll toss you in, though.”

“Threatening the telekinetic with being dunked?” Kenshi raised an eyebrow, lifting up a hand as if he would call on his telekinesis and drop her in the lake then and there. She bumped his shoulder with hers and swatted at his hand.

“You’re reckless, but even you know better than to toss me in,” she said evenly, then stood carefully to keep the small dock from wobbling overmuch. She reached one of her hands down to him, fingertips barely brushing against his. He clasped her forearm and felt her muscles go taut and her breathing stop. He moved slowly and carefully onto his feet in a low crouch, keeping his balance, before straightening. He loosened his grip, then deliberately let go and took a step back.

“Do I want to ask?”

She didn’t answer right away, and then her voice was reluctant as she did. “Had a vision of you levering me up and throwing me in anyway,” she admitted. “It’s the kind of thing kind of thing Cage used to do. I can’t count the number of times I ended up getting thrown in, and how many times I dragged him in with me. So you made the right choice.”

“I,” Kenshi said, not even bothering to turn around as he walked up the stairs, “am not Johnny Cage.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” she replied, a few steps behind him, but the tone was… odd.

Like she was smiling.

Sonya went out for a run in the afternoon, hoping to empty her mind and focus only on the feeling in her muscles. The birds, the bugs, the sound of her breathing and movement, movement: that was all that mattered. Not the memories that clearly had her in their sights. She pushed herself, the blood thundering in her ears. This was a run - nothing complicated. There were a number of unproductive ways to spend her day, and she intended to do several. Then again, she wasn’t alone; she didn’t know exactly what Kenshi liked to do in his spare time; they didn’t see each other for all that much of it.

She’d known him for years. She’d sent him undercover with the Red Dragon, and held herself responsible for the shitstorm that had ensued; the degree varied depending on how much guilt she had at the time. If she hadn’t sent him, his cover wouldn’t have been blown. If his cover hadn’t been blown, they never would have tried to kill him and murdered Suchin instead. Maybe Takeda wouldn’t be with the Shirai Ryu. Maybe she’d still be married - a hundred thousand maybes.

Her legs ate up the road as she extended the run. He’d jumped on the weekend - she’d tossed it out like a casual invitation, the more fool she, and he’d grabbed it without hesitating. She’d expected him to pass and seize a new mission, a chance to get into the field and show his prowess. Not opt into a long weekend in the middle of nowhere, in a new place. Whatever was happening here - friends with benefits, they said - had been going on for months… She nearly stumbled, realizing it was more than a year. They’d been apart for large swaths of it, but it had been over a year.

She shook off the thought and focused on the scenery instead. The day was good, the sun bright and the air cool on her skin as she pounded pavement through the forest. The trees were a riot of autumnal color, greens mingled with a blend of reds, yellows, and oranges that looked like the forest was aflame. Thankfully it wasn’t - there was no smell of smoke in the air - but it still sent her mind dancing merrily down a path of fire and flame and Shang Tsung’s throne room, Shao Kahn’s Koliseum and Scorpion and -

 _Cut it the fuck out, Sonya_.

When she finally got her thoughts in order and loped back to the house, Kenshi was leaning on the porch railing, forearms on the rail and bent over just slightly - listening, she recognized. Waiting.A smile crossed his face as she approached. He pushed up off the rail, and his expression faded back to his usual neutral state as she jogged up. Did he know how much his face was a tell - or did he just not guard it around her?

She saw, as she got closer, that he was standing with his eyes open as well, a rare enough thing.She’d never gotten used to the way he watched, never fully understood (and doubted she would ever) how he saw the world. His eyes glowed blue, an uncanny flickering solid shade - the same spirit energy he used to manipulate Sento. All that mattered, she supposed, was that he could run field ops and picked up his share of the load. She made it up the last few steps and felt her chest tighten slightly. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him out in the day like this, with his eyes open, where anyone might see. The likelihood was slim - but even in her office he’d had his eyes shut and sunglasses to hand. There was nothing, here - no armor, no blindfold, no sunglasses.

“Good run?”

“Yeah,” she answered, breathing hard and feeling the sheen of sweat cooling as her body stilled. “You good?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

She was fairly certain he was looking down his nose at her, and splayed a hand across his stomach, pushing lightly. The muscle was taut and he didn’t budge. “Refer back to our earlier conversation,” she answered. “Or is your mind starting to go, old man?”

“We are almost of an age.” He reached over and ran his fingers along the side of her head, hand coming back and settling with fingertips on her temple. “And who was it who had not even remembered I was back from an operation, and back on base?” He arched his eyebrows and she snorted at him. “Were you not the one being chastised by Fujin for overworking, for that matter? What sent you out here anyway?”

“Not overtraining,” she said. “And you’ve got enough years on me that I can call you old man,” she teased, ducking her head from under his hand. She gripped the railing and lifted herself up, sitting on it; there wasn’t a great height difference from the ground, but it was enough. Something popped as she moved, and the corners of his lips kicked up in a bit of a grin.

“And yet you are the one who sounds like they are falling apart. Old man.” Kenshi snorted. “Am I entitled to a pension, as one of your consultants? Retirement pay?”

“Oh, tired of working with me now and looking for your out?” She raised a brow. “I see. I bring you up here to peace and quiet, a few days of relaxation - and instead you take it as an opportunity to complain. See if I ever do anything nice for you again.”

“Peace and quiet? If this is your idea of relaxation…” he trailed off with a shake of his head, and then leaned back down on the railing, bracing his forearms on it. “You know, for the record - if it will help you to sleep better, to not sleep alone…”

Sonya chuckled. “Not sure that’s a smart call if I actually want to sleep.” She could feel his eyes on her, looking at her, in that way he did. If eyes were the window to the soul, his were shuttered, but she’d learned to read the rest of him. His mouth turned up at one corner, and the skin around his eyes crinkled as he cracked a small smile up at her. She managed a thin smile back. “And I notice you’re not even denying it.”

“What is the point? It’s true.” He shrugged. “At some point this weekend, I would very much like to get in bed with you, for purposes decidedly unrelated to sleep. It’s been too long, as far as I am concerned, and I have come to look forward to it. But you have the final say on that.” She avoided hissing or sucking in a breath;he’d said it, and now the weight of it hung between them.

“Try me some other night, old man. Let me get these damn devils in my head settled first. Last thing I want to do is wake up strangling you.”

“You think you could?” Kenshi scoffed, disbelieving. She looked over at him, at the column of his neck, the muscles of it, the ones of his chest and shoulders. She reached a hand towards him, not quite touching it.

Her voice was low, but it didn’t need to be loud with him. “Did, once. Cage.” She dropped her hand and looked back out over the lawn. She weighed her words, dredged each one out. “It was a shitshow. His makeup department freaked out, and I don’t think Cass knows to this day. He had to knock us onto the floor to throw me off him. I was having a nightmare, thought he was Kano. Poor bastard was bruised for over a week.” She rubbed at the back of her neck.

Kenshi had no immediate response. It felt like minutes before he spoke. “Is that why I have never woken up with you there? You either leave, or I wake and you’ve long since gone.”

“Yeah,” she admitted. “I’m used to sleeping alone now. And times like this… I only did it once, that badly, but I don’t want to do it again. Plus, I like your neck. That and your face are the only damn things your armor doesn’t cover. Hell if I want to see it marred. So it’s pure selfishness.”

“Nice to know you only like me for my looks. The offer is open. I - would not mind sharing your bed, or having you in mine. It has been a while, and the idea of it not - being some hidden, furtive thing - appeals. And I am willing to take the risk. I will be able to soothe your mind if needs be.” He reached over and touched her gently on the shoulder, then ran a hand down her back. “And I am a telekinetic. I am more equipped to handle something like that than Cage is.” At that, his voice returned to the confident tones she was far more used to, and she felt a little of the tight spring in her chest get a little looser.

“You,” she said with half-hearted teasing, “just want an excuse to prove you’re not an old man.” She elbowed him gently. “I’ve been sleeping for shit. Wouldn’t be fair to either of us. Maybe tomorrow night. Then if I haven’t bugged out entirely, I’ll be a little less worried about sleeping with you and then killing you in my sleep.” She tried to keep her voice light, and wasn’t entirely sure she’d managed to.

“Trying to, please. You’re not that good. Many have tried to kill me, and I’m still here. While you are very good - I think you will need to be conscious to make a real attempt at murdering me. Perhaps we can do some sparring tomorrow or the day after.” He nudged her with his shoulder, a gentle bump. “You can give it your best attempt.”

She was relieved at the return to a topic far less fraught with emotion, back to familiar ground. “Don’t you worry, Takahashi. I’ll go easy on your old bones and won’t drop you on your ass too many times.” She twisted around on the rail to face the house and dropped onto the porch. “I’m going to go scrub off, maybe grab a beer and then go read on the dock.” She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his lips, light and brief. “And maybe if you’re lucky there will be more where that came from.”

“I’ll bring a few bottles down. Could be a while.”

“Now you’re getting ahead of yourself.” She walked to the door, paused with her hand on it. “I’ll bring the citronella candle down.”

Long hours later, Sonya was asleep moments after her head hit the pillow. They hadn’t ended up getting up to anything beyond a few beers and reading (in his case, listening to) books, despite the earlier banter. Both of them knew if they started, they wouldn't stop, and neither one had an exhibitionist flair - and this was definitely not a private lake. She was impulsive, he was reckless, and after the few revelations of the day, it seemed Kenshi was disinclined to push her for anything she seemed the least discomfited by. Damn good friend, she'd yawned to him as she went to bed; damn good friend she didn't deserve. He'd grinned at her, and told her of course she didn't deserve him - no one did - but she'd have to tolerate him just the same. It was good, she thought, to go to bed smiling; it had been far too long. It had been good - a long day, but a good one, and she fell into bed relieved, smile still on her face.

The nightmares took over not long after. She was running. The roads by the base in Texas she’d grown up at curved around a small copse, and she exited into one of the running paths used at the military academy. Around another building and it was over a bridge to Shang Tsung’s island and through the building complex, down a hill, into the Kuatan Jungle in Outworld, into the forest around Raiden’s Sky Temple, and on and on, never stopping. There was something at the end, something she was running towards - but also running from. Every time she turned around she couldn’t see who it was or what it was, just knew that if she didn’t make it to wherever she was going before her pursuer did, it was going to cost her.


	3. Two Out Of Three Ain't Bad

**SATURDAY**

“Still on for that sparring match?” Kenshi’s voice came over her shoulder, and she jumped slightly from her seat in a deck chair on the porch. Grateful she hadn’t had her coffee cup in hand, Sonya looked up from her phone where she was sorting emails. She hadn’t heard him come outside - too preoccupied with her inbox, not enough coffee this early - and he was standing with a cup of tea in one hand, leaning against the railing and looking down at her.

“Sure. You want to go first thing?”

“I think it’s going to rain later, so it would be better earlier.” He reached out his free hand, ghosting it across her ankle and up towards her knee. 

“Just my damn luck. What, you feel it in your creaky old bones?” She eyed his hands, which were drifting back and forth and coming ever closer to the hem of her dress. It had been a five-dollar purchase half a decade ago, a spontaneous thrift store buy, and was currently the only one she wore with any sort of regularity - something like twice a year.

He arched a brow, eyes glimmering faintly blue. “My perfectly fine bones would like to finish this tea and then be more than happy to warm up and go a few rounds. You are the one whose body sounds like she needs to be tucked up in a nice overstuffed chair by the fire to knit and complain about children on the lawn.” His fingertips continued to stroke up and down her leg, and he sipped from his mug again.

“You come out to get away from the base, and all you want to do is get physical.” Sonya quirked her lips.

“Says the woman on her vacation checking her work e-mails, and who went for a several mile run yesterday.” He sipped the tea, flicking her knee with his fingers. “Were you not supposed to be actually relaxing?”

“Had time, and I’m not running around right now, am I? Nothing’s blown up that shouldn’t, and one thing that should have didn’t. But I have someone handling that.”

“I am somehow fundamentally uncomfortable with the idea that you’re concerned about things not exploding.”

“Comes with the job. I’d rather handle that than some of the other shit pending in my inbox.” She swiped another email to one side. “Not like there are many other people who can handle this, anyway. This is out of Raiden’s wheelhouse, pure military bureaucracy. Though there’s something juicy in here, looks like some Black Dragon hideouts in Central America.Bump that up once the other ops are done. I’ll do that one myself.” Her fingers tapped at the screen, flagging it. “You can come along if you want,” she added as an afterthought.

He reached for the phone, snagging it out of her relaxed hands with his nimble fingers. “Phone down, Blade.”

“Give that back. I was in the middle of something.”

“Your perpetual vendetta. You want it, come and get it.”

“You sound like a six year old.” She took a sip from her mug again and extended her hand. “Give.” Kenshi waggled the phone out of her reach, and sipped his tea again.

“Vacation. No work. Was that not the plan?” He checked to make sure it was locked, and slid it into his own pocket. “You want it, come and get it.”

“Goddamnit, Kenshi.” She sighed, and took a long drink from her coffee, then set the mug down on the small table beside her. She dropped her legs off the railing and stood up, and reached for his pocket with the phone. He twisted back, holding his mug away. “If I can get a handle on that before I get back to base then I have a few days without as much bullshit. Preventative maintenance.”

“I feel strangely like the family pet,” he responded, putting the tea down beside her coffee and dodging her grabbing fingers again. “As your friend, I cannot and will not allow you to make this a not-vacation by spending your day living in your inbox. Which is exactly what you will do, because you’ve been doing it for at least an hour already. There are other people who can do this, Sonya. You have made arrangements and surely they would call you - I know all too well that they _do_ call you - if it must be dealt with immediately.”

“Keep this shit up and I will let you sleep outside like a family dog. Give over my phone, damnit. I actually do have things I should deal with now if I can. Less work when I get back.” She whipped out a hand, but he was just as fast and caught her by the wrist, and tugged her close to him.

“You have the time off, Colonel,” he said pointedly. “Not a work-from-a-vacation-home schedule. I’ll give it back, in exchange for something.”

“For what?”

“What do you think?”

“I’m not in the mood, Kenshi,” she answered flatly.

“Tell me something about you I do not know.”

That froze her for a moment, the most out-of-the-blue thing he could have posed. Frankly, she’d been expecting a kiss or some sort of physical contest - not… that. He knew her, and knew her well, and there was one thing that sat fresh in her mind this morning.

“Fine. I had a twin brother. He’s dead. Now give me my damn phone back before I put you down.” Her voice was low and tight and rough and she balled her hands into fists at her sides. “And I will do it with extreme prejudice. Last warning.”

“Ah, Sonya.” His face tightened, eyes closing and the blue gleam vanishing. He touched his lips to her forehead, and then extracted her phone from his pocket. He tried to slide it into where he assumed her own pocket was, and failed repeatedly. He paused, brow wrinkling slightly, hands dropping down to the fabric across her hips and upper thighs.

“Are you - is that a _dress_?” He drew one hand back in disbelief, then touched the fabric again with curiosity, letting it slip between his fingers.

“Yeah.” Sonya glared at him, still sour. “Problem with that, too?”

“The blind man should be the last person to criticize wardrobe choices. I simply didn’t think you owned any.” His mouth kicked up a corner in a partial smile. “Especially something without pockets.”

“Just this and a couple others that aren’t in rotation anymore.” She plucked her phone from his hand, and set it on the table with their mugs. “Tell anyone about this, though, and I will deny everything and kill you in your sleep.”

“From anyone else, I would call that idle boasting. From you… well, I am surprised you would give me the courtesy of it being in my sleep.”

“Fifty bucks says I can kick your ass in this.”

“No bet. I know you can fight. I will settle for best two out of three.”

“Give it a bit - I want my damn coffee - and I’ll clear us a ring. You can put your money where your mouth is.”

“I will clear it.” Kenshi splayed his fingers in the air and they lit with a faint blue glow. “It will be good precision practice for me.”

He followed through, “because you’re goddamned dependable” she admitted with irritation. He settled on the porch with Sento sheathed on his lap. He’d never quite figured out how much of this was his own telepathy being extended into telekinesis, and how much was purely by virtue of the sword’s powers - it was just easier when he had the katana to hand, and precision work like this meant the less effort expended, the better. Especially when he was going to be tangling with Sonya in a sour mood.

He focused his mind and called up the telekinetic energy. He heard Sonya inhale sharply as he began to feel across part of the unkempt grassy lawn, searching out anything that might throw their footing. There would be a blue energy carpeting the grass, if he could see it - as it was, he could sense nearly everything on it, from the grass to the rocks and twigs and the field mouse that was suddenly very desperate to get _out of this place_. He let the mouse go, dropping it while he used his telekinesis to grasp the rest of the small items. This way he could also feel Sonya, see her in the way that Sento allowed - a shadow of herself, her soul’s energy stretched out into the shape of her body. She had her hands crossed over her chest, looking towards him, mouth turned up sideways in a half-smile.

She swore quietly as he gathered a collection of branches and rocks in the air, balancing them all, and then discarding them in the woods nearby. He felt the familiar curl of satisfaction unfurl itself inside him, straightening his spine and helping his shoulders settle back. He rose and set Sento carefully across the chair, and then turned to Sonya.

“Are you ready?”

“I’m gonna kick your ass barefoot in a dress. I almost - almost - wish the base was here to watch me lay you out.”

He snorted, vaulting over the porch railing onto the grass, and he heard her snicker. “Show-off.” The grass was soft and cool on his own bare feet - fair was fair - and he could smell something in the air, felt a pressure in the back of his head, in the old scars and healed breaks of his body.

“It is definitely going to rain soon.”

“You sure of that, or just trying to get out of this?”

He inhaled deeply. “Soon, but we have time for our bouts as long as we are not lazy.” He rolled his head around loosely and stretched out his hands, then settled his feet into a fighting stance.

“Well then, old man. Let me hand your ass to you and then we can get you tucked up inside before you get all wet and grumpy.”

“With age comes experience.” With that diversion, he struck the first blow, a fist to the shoulder that Sonya took full-on. He felt the rush of air as she reached up and grabbed his neck, fingers lacing together behind it. She pulled his head down, and he grunted as she slammed a knee into his stomach. They seemed to come to a mutual agreement to hold back the strongest, the worst, of their blows - but not by much. He always enjoyed these sparring matches, the chance to let loose. The heightened senses of combat, the connection of flesh on flesh - and today’s novelty, without his bodysuit and her uniform.

Sonya moved back, out of easy reach, then darted forward, driving a heel up and towards his chest. He caught her foot in one hand and and slid the other hand up over the smooth bare length of her leg, thumb tucking behind her knee, but before he could force it to bend he felt her other foot connect with his shoulder. He let a faint smile cross his face - she’d used his distraction and grip for her own leverage. The fabric of the dress fluttered past his face, and he had to resist the urge to grab at the loose material, rip it away. He felt the rope of her braid slap his shoulder, bringing him back.

“Focus, soldier,” she said as he released her. He felt the shift in the air around him as she dropped down to block a string of strong kicks from him. She bounced back up, light on her feet, to swing at him again. It slid close enough to his ear he could hear the air rush past, heard her heavier breathing as she moved with it.

“You’re improving,” he retorted, crouched down to sweep her legs out from under her. She dropped down, flipped up to recover. He stepped backward, just far enough to catch her in chest with his own kick, the force enough to send her reeling backwards. He heard the sharp exhale, a muffled grunt, and then felt the breeze of her movement as she struck with her fists, feeling the force jar him.

He dodged again, one of his hands sliding along the bare skin of her arm until it came to the cap sleeve of the dress, callused fingers running along the smooth skin, the taut muscle beneath. Once he got a hand on her shoulder, he tried for a simple push to knock her off-balance, but she was too stable to fall.

“You’re distracted,” she managed, voice hitching.

He felt her hands curl around his extended arm, the sudden weight of her poised on him, nails digging in as flung herself upward, twisting her body and wrapping her legs around his neck. The fabric of the dress covered his face and he jerked abruptly at the unusual sensation, his stomach knotting with loathing for something unseen so close to him.

The momentum and her weight brought him down to the ground, and she twisted her legs a little around his neck, muscles taut. The blood pounded in his ears and he wet his lips, the smell of sweat dewed in the divot at the back of her knee heavy in his nose. All he’d have to do was turn his head, move just a little, catch her on his tongue. He felt the change in tension as she lifted herself up slightly.

“I’m waiting.”

He tapped the ground once, and then the legs were gone.

Thunder boomed in the distance as they readied for a second round. Sonya’s eyes flicked to the skies, taking in the heavy clouds and darkening sky.

“Raiden?” Kenshi turned his head in the direction of the thunder.

“Better fucking not be. You’re delaying.” Not that she minded, since now she had an excuse to watch him closely. She couldn’t see much, dressed as he was in plain pants and shirt, but she could see the bones of his clavicles, the muscled curve of his shoulder, the bare skin of his forearms. Then he moved, and quickly, and skin hit skin, feet and fists from both of them connecting in a burst of strikes as they pounded against each other,

“Merely gauging the opportunities,” he responded as she moved in close, readying his hands to guide her away from him.

They tangled again, grappling more than striking. Sonya reached up and grabbed him around the head, fingers tangling in his hair, hands curling around his skull. She felt his hands move, free her head and shoulders for a moment before one closed on the back of her thigh just above the knee, the other seizing her ass over the dress, hiking her up against him, anything to take her legs out of play. The pads of his fingers seared her where they touched, digging in andkeeping her restrained.

He spun them around twice, his breathing heavy in her ear. She jammed one of her legs between his, hooking at him with her ankle and heel but unable to connect. He lifted her up again, holding her tightly against him. She felt the pounding of his heart, the heat of him through the shirt, the faint smell of sweat and leather and undefinable thing that was Kenshi, wanted to bury her face in the side of his neck. She kept flailing with her leg, trying not to think about his hands. He managed to knock her leg away with a well-timed move, sending both of them off-balance and tumbling to the ground, with her head in a lock.

She felt the soft prickle of grass on the back of her head, and could see the veins throbbing along the column of his neck. She considered scraping her teeth along his throat, was fairly certain he’d argue it was unfair, or a violation of the rules of sparring. She wriggled underneath the weight of him, but he had her well and truly pinned, legs entwined and her head in a lock.

“One-one,” she said, winded, ceding the bout. He loosed her from the awkward hold and she took a few moments before rising off the earth. She knocked off the biggest pieces of dirt, and looked at him. He’d begun to flush, and his chest rose and fell with the exertion of two bouts. She licked her lips, mouth hanging open in a feral smile.

“The storm is coming on faster than I thought,” he said, and she watched his throat bob as he swallowed. “I think we have time for our third, but not much else.”

“Then let’s stop talking and get to back to business.”

The raindrops skittered down onto the ground only moments later, and the smell of petrichor began to fill his nose.It seemed a mutual agreement to hurry up, both becoming more reckless with their strikes and attempts at grapples. Kenshi caught her in the stomach with a shoulder, trying to throw her; she tried for another high scissor kick but didn’t quite manage it, and he heard a pained sound from her as she hit the ground. Nonetheless she bounded up again, and a flurry of punches and kicks were exchanged before he managed by pure chance - he was convinced - to redirect one of her punches and throw her. She landed in a muddy thud on the ground, and he took advantage of the moment to kneel over her, seizing her hands in his wrists and extending her arms over her head, using his body weight to keep her pinned.

She bucked up against him, legs scrabbling to seize him, thrust him back, but he had the advantage. He squeezed on her wrists a little harder, removing one to hold her hip down. The fabric under his hands was drenched with sweat and rain, almost a second skin. She gave one last attempt at a twist, heels digging into the ground as she surged upward to throw him off, but she couldn’t get the momentum. She was well and truly pinned. He dropped his head down closer to hers, blood pounding his veins and his mouth close to her ear.

“I’m waiting.”

“Think I’m getting a good side of this,” she heaved, winded. “Call it a tie?” He snorted, settled his weight a little more firmly on her, tightened his hands on her wrists. She sighed. “Fine. You win. Don’t have the cash on me at the moment. No pockets.”

“I will pass on the money.” His heart pounded, and it had very little to do with the fighting. “I’m sure we can work something out.” He felt resistance against the hand gripping her wrists, a flexing of muscles, then a lessening of the immediate resistance. His tongue darted out and licked his lips, and he heard her make a noise beneath him, soft enough he wasn’t sure she even knew she’d made it. All it would take would be to turn his head - he could smell the sweat, so close to her, despite the rain; he could hear her blood thundering, and the almost-panting breaths that should have gone away by now. His hand at her hip tightened, and he felt her squirm.

He wanted to turn his head and kiss her so badly he ached. He lifted his head slightly, turned it, touched it to her forehead. He felt the rise of her chest beneath him, the tilt of her head, the touch of her lips against his, warm and slick with rain. “After I get a shower. I’m sweaty and muddy and it’s entirely your fault. And this rain is starting to fucking hurt.”

Kenshi freed her hands, sitting back, and then rising up, looking at his own muddied pants. He reached a hand down, and felt Sonya take ahold of his forearm, and heard the squelching as she stood, the fresh smell of mud wafting up to him. “I’m a mess,” she complained, throwing a lazy punch at him that he redirected past his torso halfheartedly. She jogged to the porch, and he wasn’t far behind her. There was a wet thunk as something hit the ground, and then the sound of the door opening. He edged forward, his foot connecting with the sodden pile of dress she’d left outside.

He was grateful for the excuse to shuck his own wet clothing, because it all felt very tight suddenly, and extremely uncomfortable. Blindness had its advantages, sometimes; with his inability to read faces, he kept his neutral as much of the time as he could, but there remained certain responses that not even a telepath with excellent self-control could manage. He waited until he heard the sound of running water join the rainfall. Then - and only then - he stripped off his own muddy and sodden clothing, leaving them beside Sonya’s. He walked inside and made a direct beeline back to the room he was staying in, pulling out a change of dry clothes. He knocked on the door to the bathroom.

“Don’t use all the hot water,” he called in. “Unless there’s room for two in there.”

He heard the bark of a laugh through the sounds of the shower and the rain outdoors. “I should make you wash out my hair for me. Just washed it this morning too.” He cracked open the door.

“Is that an invitation?”

“Too much of a mess for now. You owe me, some other time.” Her voice was clear, but tight, like she was trying not to say something. “Having the blind man get mud out of my hair sounds like a setup for comedy skit or a cheap porn. And two people in here is a little cramped. I’ll be out in about five if you can manage to wait that long.”

“If I was involved,” Kenshi said, snagging a towel off the counter - likely the one she’d left for herself - to wrap around his waist, “it would certainly not be a cheap one.”

He was satisfied with the splutter and laugh he could hear as he walked away.

The storm raged outside, lightning illuminating the small room. Sonya propped her forearms across the back of the couch, looking down at him. “I’m going to bed. You coming with?”

“Is that an offer?” He had his fingers laced together behind his head, and tilted his face up to her.

“Yeah. You’re willing to risk it, and - well, you were right. It’s been a while. And you’re not half bad.” She chuckled slightly. “But I’m about ready to call it a night, so if you’re interested, now’s the time.”

“You are being remarkably dispassionate about this.”

“What, you expect me to get all shy and flustered like we’re trying to sneak into the hayloft without being caught?” Sonya raised an eyebrow.“Those days are long gone. We’re adults. It’s not like either one of us is waiting by the phone for the other to call.” She narrowed her eyes. “Or at least I hope not.”

“Sonya, I will be honest with you.” He reached a hand up to take her fingers. The bottom fell out of her stomach - she did not want any declarations, of any kind, tonight. He didn’t seem the type - had never seemed it - and the worry began to creep up her spine. “It has been over ten years since I looked forward to hearing your name or your ringtone from a phone. The moment I know you are calling I am - for a few moments, at least - full of dread.”

“That explains why you always answer on the third or fourth ring,” she scoffed, hoping she covered her lapse in confidence with nonchalance. “Good to know things haven’t changed. So, you coming along? Or was all that on the lawn a lot of sublimated libido?”

“Give me five minutes.”

“You’ve got ten.” She pushed off the couch and started down the hall. “After that, I take matters into my own hands.” Her lips twitched slightly, and then added over her shoulder, “And I lock the door.”

It was five minutes and seventeen seconds, and in the dark of the bedroom with only occasional lightning flashes for illumination, it was not entirely clear who ambushed who.


	4. Twixt Woe And Woe I Dwell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a friend like him, who needs enemies?

**SUNDAY**

The sun nearly throbbed in the sky, hanging fat, surprisingly hot, and a little ominous. It should have cast a warm light on the dock, the lake, the trees and house. Instead, it was nothing more than cold and distant. Sonya stood there, feeling frozen through despite the fact that it should have been warm. There was something entirely Not Right, and she was on edge, looking around. She felt a tug at her belt, looked down at burnished hair of her daughter at her side, and then up into the sky as the faint whirr of a helo came closer and closer, louder and louder, along with the sounds of gunfire. That wasn’t right - there shouldn’t be gunfire here, there shouldn’t be a helicopter coming. No one had called. She reached down on the side away from Cassie, fingers closing around the butt of a pistol, drawing it.

She looked across the clearing, into the dark eyes of a woman, a woman holding a gun pointed directly at her - no.

Directly at Cassie.

She lunged forward, only be held back by Cassie’s arm around her wait. She shouted, she screamed, she flung herself harder forward, but found herself held back by Cassie - no, not Cassie, she looked down and the arms were metal bands.

“Sonya,” came the voice. “You gotta let it go, Sonya.”

The gun didn’t waver. She tried to escape, throw herself forward, wriggle free, but it was impossible. She twisted, writhed, kicked, watched the gun and the woman, was sure she saw her finger curl even though it was impossible, and then suddenly she felt an excruciating pain pierce her skull, and fell backwards. She tried to open her eyes-

Opened her eyes - the throbbing pain was _real_ -

Arms curled around her from behind, holding her own tight against her body, and she tried to throw them off, but couldn’t get adequate leverage. Not Jax’s arms, not cold metal - callused fingers, gripping tightly. Warm ones, not cold metal ones. Whoever it was behind her was warm, not cold - alive, not dead, not metal. Her mind couldn’t shift gears, and she flung herself forward again, or tried to, and felt the arms hold fast, the throbbing pain in her head jolting down through every nerve to her fingertips and toes.

“Sonya, snap out of it.” Kenshi’s voice, rough with sleep, his arms locked around her, and every word shooting pain through her. She fell back against him, her breath coming in ragged pants. His arms loosened, barely, as she stopped fighting him. “Sonya. Wake up. Damn you, Sonya, wake up!”

“Awake,” she croaked, voice hoarse. Her head throbbed with every word, every breath. “What happened?”

“You screamed, tried to fling yourself on the floor, and a number of other things besides. What would you have had me do?” She could feel his heart pounding against her back. She began to rub at her temples, scrunching her eyes closed. Breathing _hurt_ , every nerve ending screamed, and her head was the worst of all.

“What did you do to me?”

“Had to overwhelm your senses and shake you out of it. A telepathic taser, if you will.” He still held her against him, voice barely audible. “You tried to throw yourself on the floor,” he repeated. “If I let go, will you stay put?” She made a single grunt of affirmation.

“You are also freezing.” He reached down, drew the blanket up and tucked it around her, held her against his warmth. “I think I may have frozen you out - literally.” He began to rub her temples, shifting her own hands away, working his fingers through her hair, finding the pressure points beneath.

“Fuck you,” she said again. “I can take care of myself.” Tired but still indignant.

“I know you can. You are frighteningly competent, Sonya. But you also screamed. I have never before heard you scream. And you are very loud.” His fingers felt good on her head, even though the rest of her ached. She closed her eyes and slumped against his warmth - she really was cold, now that she let the thought have a moment. Maybe that had been part of what made the nightmare worse, why it was cold even though it had been sunny. “It should be better in a few minutes,” he said softly. “I am sorry.”

“Hurts, anyway. Thought you liked me.” She elbowed him. “Shit friend you are. Who needs enemies.”

“And to think I did not do it as hard as I could have.” He brushed hair away from her neck and began working out the tension the psychic jolt had given her and made her muscles seize. “Your mind is a mess, Sonya.”

“Not here for therapy,” she grumbled, head dropping forward. “Damn telepath. And you better not poke around in there or I will have you out on your ass so fast…”

“You are thinking loudly enough I can tell precisely how you plan to eviscerate me. I do not need to poke around.” His fingers played across a cord of taut muscle in her neck, and she sagged a little more as he worked the tension out of it. “Though you’re being rather exaggeratedly graphic, now.”

“Stop looking, then.”

“It’s like being shouted at, then told not to eavesdrop.” He snorted. “You’re as bad as Suchin was.”

“Really.” She turned her head, slightly, under his ministrations. “Elaborate.”

His fingers paused, but only for a moment. “There is not much to say. You sometimes remind me of her. Both of you terrifyingly efficient. She demanded I train her further in her sword work. She had begun plans for a fighting school. And she also complained vehemently, loudly - and both verbally and mentally - every time I mentioned something that had come out of her mind.”

“Smart woman.” Words still hurt to say, but if he was willing to talk on a subject he was usually so closemouthed about, she was going to take advantage of it.

“She was.” Kenshi’s chest tightened, and he felt the familiar ache when he thought of his late lover, then the heat that bloomed in his stomach, the rage that felt as fresh as the minute he’d learned of her death. He savored it, the rage that burned through him. It had been his companion for some years now, but still burned hot and bright. He sat there and let it burn, and then tamped the fire down with a bit of regret. It would be there when he wanted to go back to it, when he needed it. He forced his fingers to loosen from where they were tight on Sonya’s neck, and tamped the fire down.

“You two would have gotten along… have conquered the world, had everyone organized and in their place in moments. You would not have needed me as an executive officer, with Suchin to hand. She would sit there, quietly, observing, and the have a series of stratagems that she would set in motion and by the time they had all played out, she had precisely what she wanted, and very few people the wiser.” His fingers slowed along Sonya’s neck, dropped down to her shoulders to begin working the muscle groupings at the base of her neck and along her shoulders. “She was a master tactician, and a master haggler. She would have had a unit outfitted, supplied, and on mission before you could have sneezed.”

“Ssounds like my kind of person.” Sonya’s voice was quiet, and he felt one of her hands drop to his leg, spread out on his thigh.

“The world would not have survived the two of you.”

Uninvited, a memory intruded in his mind.

_“We’ll start a school,” Suchin said one night, wrapped up in his arms, the smell of jasmine from the garden outside thick in their noses. She was soft and warm and the lingering scent of incense from the temple lay in her hair. A particularly strong bit drifted up in his nose as he inhaled the scent of her, and he sneezed. She laughed, and a smile crossed his face at the sound. “A fighting school. My father has connections, old ones from the military. We’ll take women and men, and we will have our own place, our own school.” She nuzzled his neck, kissed the scars around his eyes._

_“A school? With what money?” Kenshi ran a hand through her dark hair, opening his eyes and letting their blue light faintly illuminate the room. His other hand held her close to him, feeling the length of her stretched out along his body. She was small, but a lethal whirlwind with her sword, and he adored her for it. “And where? And it’s not simply a pair of people-“_

_“There’s an old tourist place, not far away. Rooms and courtyards and it isn’t in bad shape. We could easily buy it, and hire enough of the kids in town to staff it, until we have students who can actually cook.” Suchin wrinkled her nose and he grinned, kissed the corner of her mouth. “I have a few students in mind, actually. And -“_

_“I love you,” Kenshi said, shaking his head slightly in admiration, tugging her more closely against him as if they could find a way to occupy the same space.“You have it all planned out.”_

_And, for a minute, he thought he could almost stay here forever, with her. Forget Mortal Kombat, the Netherrealm War, the fighting between the Light and Dark and everything else. He’d proven himself to enough people - and she didn’t care either way. She admired his skill, he admired hers, and they were content._

_He left two days later, promising to return soon, put some lingering things to bed so he could focus on her, the school, building their life together. Then Sonya called, with a challenge he couldn’t decline: to infiltrate the Red Dragon mercenaries._

Kenshi bent his head down to the chilled and surly woman in his arms, buried his face in the fine strands of her hair, and tried to burn the smell and feel of her into his mind. This was not Suchin. Suchin smelled like jasmine and kaffir lime and incense, her arms and legs muscled for swordwork. He could remember the smell, still, though it was becoming more difficult.Suchin slept in cotton pajamas, or nothing at all.

Most importantly, Suchin was dead. 

“You are breathtakingly capable, but our minds all have ways of making our lives difficult. I speak from knowledge.”

“When did you become a therapist?”

“Telepath, Sonya. Knowing how minds work is one of the tools - weapons - I have. And I am the best at what I do. I did bring Hanzo back out of Scorpion, did I not?”

“Arrogant jackass,” she grumbled, but it was in a tone he was used to. It was the one that said now she was just complaining because she felt like it. She blew out a noisy breath.

“But correct.”

“Fuck you,” she swore again, without heart. Kenshi could feel her heartbeat slowing.

“If you insist.” She snorted, felt his own body shake in a brief, stifled laugh. “Thought I think not right now.”

“Agreed, but I’m too wired to sleep.” He felt her move, reach out from under the blanket.

“Put the phone down, Sonya.”

“Checking the time.” There was the soft thud as she set it back down. “Too early to get out of bed, anyway. Three something.”

“Then lay back down.” He shifted, pulling away from her, and stretching back down on the bed. “Eventually you will sleep. I intend to.”

He felt her fingers run through his hair absentmindedly. “You gonna steal the blankets again and make me freeze my ass off, if I stay? Starting to think not sharing a bed is definitely the safest call.” He snorted, caught her hand, pressed a kiss to her palm. He felt her fingertips curl almost reflexively into his cheek and slide down to cup his jaw.

“It has been… some time since I have shared a bed. I have forgotten some of the niceties of it.”

“Not stealing the blankets is beginner level.” She slid down a little, rolling onto her stomach and propping herself up on her elbows. She reached a foot around, tucked it up against him, and he hissed a breath out at the cold contact.

“Serves me right. Come here.” He ran a hand down her back, tracing the curve of her spine, and then tugged her over slightly, shifted himself as well. “I have said before that my skills are unsurpassed, and I have never failed at anything I have attempted. Let us see if I can give you back some of the warmth I’ve stolen.” He tugged again, ever so slightly, until she had twisted a leg with his, curved an arm around him, and he felt unaccountably warm despite the chill she still radiated. “How do you manage to be so cold?”

“Ask my ex,” she said dryly. “He’s convinced I’m related to Sub-Zero in some way.”

“Out of everything, I somehow doubt you would be a cryomancer.” He felt her warming, slowly, against him, and held in most of a yawn. “Now, making bargains with the demons of Netherrealm like Hanzo would be far more your style. Or sorcery.”

“You’re being remarkably stupid, comparing me to Quan Chi and Shang Tsung while I’ve got a knee between your legs.”

“Or merely confident,” he said, grinning and pressing his hand against her back. “Now rest, Sonya, even if you cannot sleep.”

He woke to find her still beside him, still cool to the touch but far warmer than she had been. It was day - he could feel the sunlight warming parts of him, though it didn’t have the even coverage to say it had fully illuminated the room. She slept on; her breathing was slow and regular, and he touched her side and felt the rise and fall of her ribs to confirm. She’d rolled away again, her back to him; he touched his lips to her shoulder, enjoying the opportunity to be near her when she was the unguarded one. Not shrieking, or trying to fling herself off the bed. He felt a shudder ripple across himself, unbidden, as he remembered waking up hours earlier to the piercing sound and the violent movements - and if this was anything typical, he was not wholly surprised why she trusted few people enough to sleep beside them. He had his own concerns, but they were psychological and predictable, a matter under control.

But this was Sonya, who would of course wait until everything was at critical mass and damaging her already questionable mental health to perhaps admit there was something, maybe, worth discussing. Damned military mindset and her inability to be anything but wholly in control, wholly focused on her work. One of his hands drifted lightly to rest on her stomach, feeling the thin marks of scars under his touch. He felt the minute tightening of muscle, then her body nearly went rigid as she stretched out, legs brushing against him. She went lax again, and he felt a moment of hesitation as she rolled over.

He felt her eyes on him, the sensation of being wholly and entirely evaluated, and then the weight of the gaze moving away.

“You’re a mess, soldier. Get it together.” Her voice was low and a little rough, almost a whisper. He felt the movements of the mattress as she sat up, but then remained still. He felt something tickle his nose and, to avoid sneezing and ruining the appearance of sleep, he very deliberately stretched out on his own.

“I survived,” he said through a yawn, and felt the impact as she swatted at his shoulder.

“There you go. You got laid and woke up next to me and lived to tell the tale.”

“Three out of three on mission objectives,” he answered, folding his hands up underneath his head. “And I can tell you’re giving me a dirty look.”

“Sometimes I wonder if you’re lying about this whole being blind thing.”

“I merely know you well. And that’s what Jax accuses me of, anyway.”

“He’s usually right. And you’re just a pile of secrets and enigmas wrapped in the rest of some trite phrase.”

There was an undercurrent of tension as they bantered back and forth for a few more minutes, and Kenshi was not sure he wanted to be the one to push it - but he could tell she was equally as hesitant. There was something new and strange here that hadn’t been the night before, and it had very little to do with her nightmare. The casual intimacy had not evaporated with the morning light, and it seemed their friendship had only settled a little deeper, but gone a little akimbo at the same time. He was used to this with a lover - and a lover was a type of friend, or should be.

“I’m making coffee. I need it after last night.” Her voice was forced cheer, and he leaned his head back on his hands to keep them from wandering to her, running over her. They itched with wanting.

“Head still hurt?”

“Like I said, with friends like you… definitely don’t need enemies. I see why you’re single, if that’s what happens when you get a woman to spend the night.”

“And I can see why you don’t spend the night with anyone,” he responded evenly. She swatted at him again and he rolled to one side, dodging it.

“There’s a reason I’m not shopping around for a boyfriend. Not a lot of people ready to deal with my lack of work-life balance,” she said mockingly, “and ready to put up with that, as infrequent as it is.”

“And I am not interested in tying myself down to yet another person.”

She desperately wanted to lean down and wipe the smirk off his face - he was worse than Cage, sometimes. But anything she did, anything she said, would play right into his ego. So no matter how badly she wanted to run her fingers through several days of scruff that shadowed his jaw, she wouldn’t. She’d sit and look at him, the angles of his cheekbones lit in the morning sun, the faded scarring around his eyes, the sinew and muscle bared to her gaze. She could remember the last time she’d woken up beside someone - it was a bittersweet memory, and she didn’t want to risk this fragile thing, whatever it was, with some idiot move. She’d keep this one close, instead. What they had was good and she wasn’t going to fuck it up.

“Then it’s pretty convenient, isn’t it, for both of us. Not gonna mess with a good thing.” She poked him, pointedly, in the soft part of his armpit, and let a smirk cross her own face at his startled look and the way he rapidly tried to pull his arm down to protect himself, but awkwardly having to shift around as he did. Anything to break that tension.

“That’s taking advantage,” he accused.

“Never said I played fair, did I?” She leaned over impulsively kissed him on the corner of his mouth, and then slid out of the bed before either of them could say, or do, anything else. He reached for her, but she slipped away when she saw his hand coming, and edged around the foot of the bed.

“You are a vicious woman, Sonya Blade, and I will have my revenge.”

“You keep telling yourself that.”


	5. The Truth Will Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you blame me for it?”
> 
> “Sometimes. Usually when I am around Jax and Jacqui, or Johnny and Cassie, and wonder what might have been my lot.”
> 
> “I make a good scapegoat,” Sonya said, tilting her head back. She leaned forward then and played the fishing line again, flicking at it. “Give me five minutes with this, and then you can take some of that lingering resentment out on me.”

**STILL SUNDAY.**

Kenshi caught her much later on the dock. Sonya had disappeared with a declaration of her intent and gone to fish, barely making more than a cursory attempt. He settled down behind her, stretching his legs out to either side, and deftly snagging the Army baseball cap off her head. She’d felt the shift of the dock beneath her, but had not expected the closeness.

“You’re a regular class act. Thing’s almost older than Cassie, got it just the way I like it. Don’t need you messing it up.” She kept her eyes on the white and red bobber, hoping for some fish to take pity on her. They hadn’t been showing her much sympathy, leaving her to sit with her thoughts. She turned around briefly, tugged her hat off his head, put it back on her own. “So, you have me pinned down. What’s the plan?”

“Since you can’t call for reinforcements,” he tipped his hands palm up, setting the backs gently on her thighs, “I thought I would simply interrogate you now. I’ve told you mine, you tell me yours. What sets you screaming at night?”

“Hell, Kenshi, it’s a good thing you’re good in the sack because you’re not winning any prizes for being a sweet-talker.” She tugged at the fishing line lightly, reeling it in a bit.

“Neither one of us plays fair,” he reminded her. “Tell me, or I will dig it out of you.”

“You’re a bastard,” she said, tugging the line again. He was silent, waiting. She waited, looking back at the bobber. It drifted with blissful complacency in the water. “I am in control of all this, you realize? I know what it is, I don’t need to go through it like this is court counseling.” She tugged on the line, began to reel it in slowly, stopped. He sat silently behind her. He would try to wait her out, but she could play the silence game just as well. She waited, watched the fishing line, felt his presence unmoving. They’d done this before, just not quite the same positioning, waiting before a mission. Heartbeats turned to breaths, breaths turned to minutes, minutes stretched longer. His hand turned over, fingers light on her jeans, ceding the battle of wills to her. She waited longer still, eyes on the bobber. Just long enough to make sure he knew it was her choice. Her throat had gone dry, and she had to clear it once before she spoke.

“Got busy at base. Enough that when Fujin called me out, I figured I’d take leave and come up. Nothing but good memories up here. Just forgot who they’d all been with.” She frowned, eyed the line. Fishing the day after rain was never particularly good, but surely something was hungry. “Then you showed back up in my office, and I couldn’t even remember when you’d gone. Let alone that you’d come back.” He squeezed her leg, the rest of him still. “So you were doing work I needed you to do - clearly, since I trusted you and let it out of my head - but damned if I’m worried what else I’ve missed. Forgotten.”

“I am grateful you know I will handle whatever you task me with. You are incredibly competent. If losing track of me is the biggest worry you have, then I would argue you are in fine shape, Sonya.”

“It’s not. What else has slipped off my radar, entirely?” She felt one of his hands on her shoulder, press her back ever so gently into him so she could feel the rise and fall of his chest, the solidity of his presence. “It’s also when my father died. Went off on a mission and never came back. When Shinnok nearly killed us all in the Jinsei chamber at the Sky Temple. When my divorce was finalized. Leadup to all the holidays when half the base starts fucking around and angling for time off, making mistakes, more paperwork for me.”

“You really do hate this time of year.”

“With a passion. As for the actual nightmare - well. Extracting you out of Pakistan. You remember the kid, her mother?”

“I was not focusing on that at the time,” he said, voice cooling slightly, as if he was thinking. “I remember you said something in the helo while we were both getting checked over by the medic but didn’t think much on it. I was preoccupied, what with the almost being killed, rescuing my son that I hadn’t known I had from Hsu Hao and the rest , and the rest of it.”

“It’s a good thing I don’t have you working with PR or the Chaplain Corps.” She reeled in the line and scowled at the empty hook. She picked up a worm out of the cup full of dirt and worms, threaded it nonchalantly on the hook. “You’re definitely an acquired taste.” She held the rod behind her, then flicked it forward and let the line fly out, watching it drop into the water. “Anyway. Killed a woman with her kid holding onto her. Stuck with me. Still does.”

“Would you prefer I coddle you?”

“I don’t think you’d know how to, even if you wanted to.”

“There’s no purpose in making this be anything it isn’t. You have an issue affecting your performance. It’s of a mental nature rather than a physical thing, leaving me more suited to try to fix it than a doctor. You are, at least, not also imbued with demonic hellfire and the burning need for revenge like Scorpion.”

“Or you.” She felt him stiffen behind her, the hand that had started to idly brush on her leg frozen in place. “Oh, come on. You’re consumed by it as much as he was. If I handed you some Red Dragon today, whoever it was that had killed Suchin… You and I both know you would not hesitate.” He made a noncommittal sound.

“And if I handed you Kano?”

Her lips twitched irritably. “Can we agree that both of us have complementary personal objectives and leave it at that?”

“We have many things that are complementary. Our… personal objectives, as you call them, are some of them.” He skimmed his fingers across her leg again.

“So since you want to rip open wounds and rub some salt on them, how about we talk about the skeletons in your closet, hmm?” She elbowed him gently.

“That’s a graveyard with enough for several years. Another time.”

“You always say that. I draw the line now. Give me one. How’d you and Suchin meet?”

“You would ask that.”

“You brought her up last night.”

“It was not long after I left here, after Shinnok’s defeat. When you and Johnny went off to further investigate Quan Chi, and ended up recovering some of our fallen… friends.”

“I made my way to Thailand, looking for new challenges. I needed something to take away the sting of missing the chance to take down Shinnok. That Johnny had done it while I lay unconscious on a floor… grated.”

“I imagine.” Sonya’s voice was quiet, bitterly amused.

“Quiet if you want the story.” She settled back, and he continued. “I went through Vietnam, through Laos, crossed into Thailand near Vientiane, thinking I would work my way slowly across to Chiang Mai. In Lampang, I stopped for a few days, having heard of a few possible worthies to challenge my blade.” He rested his chin on her shoulder, voice quiet beside her ear, inhaling her sweet, elusive scent. “I was taking tea one morning when a young woman approached me. She smelled like incense and jasmine and had - of all things - a faint Southern American drawl. She informed me that if I was so good, she would try my skill. I turned her down, and she was beside herself with fury. I had never been so comprehensively cursed at in Thai before. She came back that evening and challenged me again. I refused her, I counted her not even worth my time, and it would be unfair to cut a woman down. I should have known then - I never refused anyone. I should have known,” he repeated, almost to himself.

“The second day, annoyed, I agreed. I laid her out in four moves. She came back that night and asked for lessons. Again, she wouldn’t take no for an answer. She had potential, potential that had been left untrained for a number of reasons. I admired the fight in her, the need to prove herself. She did not care that I was blind, it only mattered that I would teach her. She’d been fighting the dregs, and wanted more. I admired - I loved - the fire in her, the ambition.”

“Like calls to like,” Sonya murmured.

“So it was. She burned with ambition, and I recognized much of myself in her. She could not bear to hear the word no uttered in her presence. She could not be denied anything - and very quickly learned I would not deny it to her if it was in my power to give. Suchin would train herself until she was exhausted and could barely hold her blade. Her father was a former American Army soldier, and he was willing to accept my involvement with his daughter when he found out I had run with the Special Forces for a time.” He could remember the man’s surprise when Kenshi had produced the challenge coin Sonya had given him before they’d parted ways. “I never made it to Chiang Mai. I was willing to make Lampang my world. Suchin had begun to make plans for a school - and, I think, to wed me - when I realized I had a few things to lay to rest before I could tie myself down.

“And so I left. And then you called about infiltration. And… well.” He shrugged. “You know the rest as well as I do.”

“Any regrets, then?”

“Only that I said yes to you, and went. I did not regret it then, but it burns me now.” He could lie to her - and had, and would again - when it suited him, but there was no purpose to it here. “But staying, and loving her? No, I have no regrets there. I would do it again if I were given the chance.”

“Do you blame me for it?”

“Sometimes. Usually when I am around Jax and Jacqui, or Johnny and Cassie, and wonder what might have been my lot.”

“I make a good scapegoat,” Sonya said, tilting her head back. She leaned forward then and played the fishing line again, flicking at it. “Give me five minutes with this, and then you can take some of that lingering resentment out on me.”

“In a match, or…?”

“Whatever suits you,” she said decisively. “Wouldn’t mind another chance to throw your ass in the mud.” He snorted,

“You are a glutton for punishment, Sonya.”

He heard her suck in her breath, and then the sounds of line and gears as she let line play out before beginning to reel her line in. “Seems I always get what I’m after in the end, even if it takes me a damn long time.” She moved forward, and he e heard the splashing and a wet thwack, felt a faint spray of water as she held the fish, extracted the hook, and then a wet thunk as she threw it back in. “Not bad.”

“Worth the time, even so?”

He felt the dock shift under her as she stood. He heard the sounds of her tidying the fishing equipment, and then the touch of her fingertips grazing his forearm, finally lightly pressing the pads of his fingers with her own. “Wouldn’t keep after it, if it wasn’t. I don’t have enough time to waste my free moments on things that aren’t worth it.”

“I never knew you enjoyed losing so often, so much,” he said, sliding his hand onto her forearm and rising carefully.

“Oh, Kenshi. One day you’ll learn.” She tugged her arm away and gently bumped his shoulder with hers. She slid around him like water, and he heard her tread on the stairs. “If you think I’m losing, you’re sorely mistaken.”

The earth was not so wet and muddy as either of them had feared, and the sparring that ensued was the lazy kind of athleticism that meant neither really won, nor lost. They spent an hour at it, chasing a different sort of physical exertion and endorphin rush than had come the previous night. They were in the thick of it, grappling, when a telltale sound cut through their heavy breathing and the afternoon birdsong: the electronic trill of Sonya’s phone.

“Damn it,” she swore, one leg hooked around his, bending one of his arms back.

“I hate your phone, Sonya. To the depths of the Netherrealm.”

She released him after a single longer hold, and the second ring, before loping towards the porch where the phone sat on the rail. He rubbed his shoulder where she’d wrenched it around.

“Blade.”

Kenshi felt badly for eavesdropping, but curiosity won out.

“How you doin’, Sonya?” Jax’s voice, rich and deep even through the phone line.

“Eh, been worse.”

“Level with me, LT.” She snorted at her demotion. Kenshi knew enough of their exchanges to know Jax liked to remind her he was still her old CO, no matter their change in circumstances. “How are you really doin’? Know this time of year is shit for you. Little birdie told me you bailed and got outta town.”

“You got a spy in my organization?” Her voice held a hint of amusement. “Not for too long. Coming back tomorrow night. Stay away too long and everyone fucks it all up.”

“Stop by the farm, if you have time. Vera’d love to bend your ear, and Jacqui hasn’t seen Aunt Sonya in a while. She’s got some new moves she wants to show you.”

“I’ll see what I can swing,” Sonya said, glancing once in Kenshi’s direction. “Note _you_ haven’t said a word about wanting to see me.”

“Eh, you know. If you’re around.” His voice joked, but Kenshi could tell there was something lurking at the edges.

“Clean up here early and I think I can make it down there for a late lunch.”

“How many extra plates we setting?”

“Excuse me?” Kenshi didn’t need vision to know the sudden shock that would be on her face, though her voice was oddly flat. “That’s more than a little presumptuous, _Mister_ Briggs.”

“You were outta breath when you picked up the phone. Took a few rings, too. Means you’re up there with someone - probably sparring, given the way you operate - and I interrupted. Sure as shit ain’t Cage, doubt it’s Cassie or I’d already hear her voice, girl’s liker dad and can’t shut up. But you’re not solo, and it’s quiet, so not her.”

“Fuck you,” Sonya swore without anger, and Kenshi could hear Jax’s laugh. The man hadn’t made major on brute force alone, and no matter his reticence to involve himself in SF and operations again, Kenshi had a degree of respect for him. It went up a notch with the deduction.

“Two more for lunch, then. But be honest. You good, Sonya?”

“Yeah,” she said, after a long contemplative pause. “Yeah. I’m good.”


End file.
